


before the night is over

by queenoftheashes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 19:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18644767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenoftheashes/pseuds/queenoftheashes
Summary: A brief exchange between Sandor and Sansa before the Battle of Winterfell.





	before the night is over

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written in ages but I'm really in my feelings about the lack of SanSan in Season 8 so far so decided to start with the missing scene from Episode 2. Might turn this into a multi-chapter if I'm feeling inspired. Thanks for reading!

 

before the night is over

 

 

For someone who had spent a great deal of time avoiding the company of others, Sandor was surprised by how heavy he felt at the prospect of spending his last few hours alone save for a wineskin of sour red. He had thought about seeking out the one person in Winterfell he had anything to say to, but decided against it. If they were to meet again, it should be on her terms. He owed her the right to choose whether to see him again or not. And, he thought, the way she had determinedly avoided crossing paths with him since he had arrived days before was answer enough.

 

He took another drought of wine and wondered when the hope she might want to see him again had taken root in his mind, and how he hadn't ripped it out long ago. Sighing, he turned to see who had come to join him on the wall, unsurprised to see Arya staring at him expectantly with her hand extended. He passed her the wineskin and shifted away from her slightly as she settled down next to him and took a long sip.

 

"Why are you here?" she asked bluntly, passing the wineskin back to him.

 

"Why the fuck do you think?" he replied, one corner of his mouth turning up slightly at her exasperated sigh.

 

"It's not like you to fight for anyone but yourself." She said, and he turned to face her, raising his eyebrow slightly.

 

"I fought for you, didn't I?" he asked.

 

She looked away, jaw tightening slightly.

 

"And then I robbed you and left you to die. So don't tell me you joined the Brotherhood, went beyond the wall with John, went back to Kings Landing, and then came all the way back here for me." She said, reaching for the wine again and taking another long sip.

 

He let out a short, humorless laugh.

 

"No, I didn't come back just for you. I know I can't protect you or your sister, not against what's waiting for us out there. But that doesn't mean I won't fight for you anyways." He told her, and he thought he saw her dark eyes soften ever so slightly.

 

"You did protect both of us." Arya said.

 

"I tried. But I couldn't protect her from that cunt Joffrey, or from fucking Littlefinger, or Ramsay fucking Bolton." Sandor spat out angrily.

 

"They're all dead now." Arya told him, a note of satisfaction in her voice that did not go amiss.

 

"Not because of me," Sandor replied.

 

"You'll have plenty of chances to kill for her before this night ends," Arya scoffed, taking another long sip of wine.

 

"I'd do more than just kill for her, if it came to that." Sandor said gruffly, immediately regretting his admission when Arya's gaze fixed upon him, causing him to avert his eyes to avoid hers.

 

"Sansa doesn't blame you for anything that's happened to her." Arya said after a long moment, and he wanted so badly to believe her.

 

"You don't know that," he eventually said, taking another swig of wine and tipping his head back against the wall, staring into the darkness above them.

 

"She told me. And if you have something to tell her, I suggest you do it now, before we're all dead." Arya said, standing up and turning to look back at him.

 

"And where are you going?" he asked.

 

"We may only have a few hours left to live. And you're miserable company." She replied, her mouth twitching up in a small smile before disappearing back down the staircase, leaving him alone again.

 

He sat there for a moment longer, staring at the wall in front of him, before getting to his feet with a sigh. Loath as he was to admit it, the girl was fucking right. He was going to die with enough regrets as it was, and he didn't want Sansa to be one of them. Just as he had steeled himself to go and look for her, she appeared at the top of the stairs, her copper hair aflame in the light of the torches.

 

"My lady," he said, bowing his head slightly, raising his eyes to meet hers.

 

"I'm not your little bird anymore?" she asked, one thin brow rising up slightly as she watched him.

 

"You were never mine, Lady Sansa," he replied, hating how weak it made him sound.

 

"I was starting to wonder if I had imagined seeing you ride in with my brother. You've certainly made yourself scarce," she said archly.

 

"I didn't think you wanted to see me." Sandor replied, sounding much meeker than he intended.

 

"And yet here I am." Sansa said. They were silent for a moment. "I want to thank you for watching over Arya. Without you, I'm not sure I would have ever seen my sister again." Sansa continued softly.

 

"You mean to thank me for kidnapping your sister and trying to ransom her off to your family? No need, my lady." He said bitterly.

 

"She told me what you did for her. I know you don't think yourself a man of honor, but I know you risked your life to protect her, and neither of us will ever forget that." Sansa told him, turning to face the forest beyond the wall, her face inscrutable.

 

"I'm not an honorable man. I stood by and let unspeakable things happen to you. I couldn't protect you when it mattered the most. I...I wish you had come with me when I left Kings Landing." Sandor said, his throat tight, the air heavy around him with the weight of what he had left unsaid.

 

"Rarely a day passes that I don't think about that night. How different everything might have been." Sansa replied, her voice quavering ever so slightly. "I thought I would be safe."

 

For the first time, he saw the girl he had left the night the city burned and not the woman who stood beside him now.

 

"Maybe nothing would have been different. Maybe I would have died anyways like I was meant to. Maybe I couldn't have kept you any safer with me than you were after I left." Sandor said.

 

"You could have. You still can." Sansa told him, her blue eyes searching his.

 

With one short step, she closed the distance between them and he could hear blood thrumming in his ears as his pulse raced, breath hitching in his throat. She tilted her face up towards his, her pale skin almost translucent in the light of the torches.

 

"You used to scorn me for believing in silly stories and songs about love and true knights. I've long stopped believing in all of it. But I don't wish to die having only ever kissed men who wanted nothing more but to hurt me. So please. I want yours to be the last lips to touch mine before we're all nothing but bones." Sansa murmured, her hand reaching for his empty one.

 

"Sansa-" he said, searching her face, sure she could not have meant it.

"Sandor. Please." She whispered, and he heard a tremble in her voice he knew could not be quelled by words alone.

 

He dropped the wineskin unceremoniously, bringing his hand up slowly, afraid she would suddenly change her mind and jerk away. When she didn't, he ran his palm up the side of her neck, his thumb gently caressing her ear as he leaned down toward her and gently pressed his lips against hers. She was as cold and still as a statue, their kiss almost chaste with his fear of taking too much from her. Just as he was about to pull away, terrified he had done just that, she squeezed his hand and he felt the warmth of her tears on his cheeks as she deepened their kiss, her other hand coming up to cling to his waist.

 

He could have stayed there with her forever, had it not been for the sound of a horn piercing the air. They broke away, staring at each other for a long moment. Finally, she set her jaw, the spell broken.

 

"Stay alive for me." She said.

 

He nodded, unable to form any coherent response, and she turned to go. He watched her retreating frame and cursed the gods for giving him a reason to live just as his death was all but assured before the night was over.


End file.
